In Vipera Morsus
by SenSayuri
Summary: Severus Snape struggles with life after his near-death experience. Harry Potter gains an unhealthy obsession.Their lives become inevitably intertwined. Post-War, Seventh Year, Slash. Cover Image by yukipon!
1. Prologue

In Vipera Morsus 

Author; Chihiro Yuki  
Warnings; Snape/Harry Slash, Foul Language, Upsetting Scenes and a terrible attempt at humour!  
Setting; Post-War, Canon-ish (up until the epilogue) Seventh year.

-Prologue-

* * *

In the cold light of morning, Harry Potter glared at the cup of tea set upon his coffee table. His green eyes penetrated the innocent porcelain as if the cup was to blame for the inevitably exhausting day ahead.

With a long-suffering sigh, The Boy Who Lived, the saviour of the Wizarding world, heaved himself from his comfortable position on the couch and resigned himself to his fate.

He bent to pick up his luggage and made his way to the front door of Grimmauld Place; setting him on the first leg of his journey back to a castle in the Scottish Highlands he had always considered his first home.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry awaited Harry Potter to welcome him back for his seventh year.

* * *

" Mr Potter! Is it true that you're running for Minister?"

"-No-"

"Harry Potter, what is your opinion concerning the current political climate in France?"

"-I..What?-"

"I heard you found the cure for Lycanthropy, Mr Potter, Is this true?"

"-What? No..-"

"Harry Potter! Harry Potter! Can I have your signature?"

"I'm sorr- Whoa!"

Harry backed away from the over-enthusiastic woman urging Harry sign her skin with a pink quill; her shirt undone and her chest pushed forward proudly. She batted her eyelashes at him, leading Harry to believe she had some sort of nervous twitch. He shook his head at her before turning and all but running from the gang of reporters and adoring fans.

Harry weaved his way through the familiar King's Cross Station, dodging Muggles and Wizards alike in his mad dash to get away from the crowds.

He had dreaded this day for months, the day where he would have to venture out in public alone for the first time since the end of the war. The attention he was receiving left a bad taste in his mouth.

When he'd first received the letter inviting him back to Hogwarts, he'd been more than happy to except. The war had been hard on everyone; but life moved on. The Seventh Year students who'd been directly affected by the chaos had been given the choice to re-sit their NEWTS.

Post-war life had eventually gained some semblance of control. Hogwarts was re-built and the remaining Death Eaters captured. No longer did the Wizarding world kneel at the mercy of one dark, cruel man. All thanks to one eighteen year old boy. The same eighteen year old boy that fled his fans and took a running-jump at the wall between platforms nine and ten in King's Cross station, forgetting to check for Muggle on-lookers in his haste.

Harry stumbled onto platform nine and three quarters, catching himself before he fell face-first into the neighbouring wall. Bystanders glanced curiously at him as he straightened himself out and retrieved his luggage bag from the floor where it'd tipped on its side in the rush.

He didn't blame his two best friends for being unable to accompany him on the journey to Hogwarts; but that didn't stop him from sighing in disdain when on every street the world seemed to echo his name.

Hermione had gone to look for her parents after the post-war clean up. She'd eventually found them in Australia and removed the spell she'd cast on them prior to the war. She'd ended up staying with her parents for the last few weeks of summer and didn't plan to come back until Sunday; two days from now.

Ron had chosen to stay at home with his family a bit longer while he and George made plans for the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes grand re-opening in a few weeks. The Weasleys' still grieved heavily for Fred and in turn put all of their effort into re-opening the shop in Fred's honour. Ron had opted to come back tomorrow evening.

Which left Harry to cope with the hordes of undying fanatics and eager reporters alone; his biggest pet-peeve. He hurried through the crowd of students and parents alike towards the old steam train he'd grown to love, ignoring the naked admiration and blatant stares he received on the way.

He threw himself onto the train without a backwards glance, ignoring a few of the Wizards and Witches who were trying to get his attention. He felt relief spread through his body as he snapped the door on the train shut against the crowd.

But Harry's relief was short lived as he turned to face the corridor.

He found himself faced with a train-full of bustling students; the majority already over-reacting to his presence amongst them.

Would life for The Boy Who lived ever be simple?

* * *

Harry found himself wedged between Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnigan during the most awkward Sorting Ceremony he'd ever attended. The majority of new students seemed more interested in shaking his hand, getting his signature or asking him if he was immortal, amongst other far-fetched assumptions.

Finnigan snickered madly into his fist while Longbottom patted Harry awkwardly on the back, attempting to comfort him during the whole fiasco. Harry ignored every question and request, burying his head in his arms and blocking out the world.

He felt somewhat relieved when he heard Headmistress McGonagall call order to the Great Hall. He raised his head to see the first years scrambling into a line at the front of the Sorting Hat.

He stole a glance up the Gryffindor table, only to see his noble classmates also staring at him. Most of them hastily turned away when they saw him look their way, others continued their rude gaping.

"You know, Harry, they're not doing it to wind you up.. they love you for what you did." Neville offered his input, looking sympathetic. Harry mumbled a sardonic "I suppose" into the table top, not bothering to acknowledge his friend properly. He heard him sigh softly and pick up a conversation with Lavender Brown, who sat across from the trio, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.

The ceremony ended and the feast began, leaving each house to greet their newest members. Harry couldn't think of anything worse; new eyes to watch his every step and new voices to question his every motive. He speared a boiled potato angrily and thought of ways he could excuse himself to his dormitory.

Before he could even formulate a plan, McGonagall called the hall to be silent. He glanced to the head table curiously, interested despite his mood, to see her interrupt everyone mid-feast.

"Students, if I could have your attention for a few minutes, that would be grand." Her usually stern tone was softer than usual, carrying through the hall and silencing the curious chatter that had erupted.

"I would like to inform you that we have found a worthy candidate for the Defence against the Dark Arts position."

The sentence drifted serenely through the hall, leaving a silence in its wake before curious murmurs broke loose and McGonagall held her hand up to hush the students once more.

"I expect you to treat him with the respect he deserves. The perils of war dealt us all a cruel hand, but few as severe as what this man has endured to insure our safety."

Hundreds of heads immediately turned to Harry and he felt himself pale under the scrutiny.  
_  
_He cast his eyes to the Headmistress. She directed a grim, half-smile his way, before gesturing with a wrinkled hand towards the entrance of the hall.

"Severus Snape will be joining us again at Hogwarts." She uttered this as if commenting on the weather, before turning around and settling back into her seat, her gaze downcast.

The hall once again plummeted into silence. This time, the weight of it caused gooseflesh to explode along Harry's exposed forearms.

_What..?_

Harry felt himself grow detached, an inner monologue overriding his conscious as the rest of the hall stared towards the entrance to the hall, haunted expressions marring their features.

_Surely not? Snape died.. Snape is dead.. Snape is….. __  
_

It was as if some meddling deity had slowed down time itself. Harry turned, his body seeming to take years to complete the simple motion. His bright green irises followed, excruciatingly slow, to where all of other the students gawped.

A tall, thin figure occupied the doorway. His posture was awkward. His long, black hair was lankier than ever. His sallow skin was paler than usual and his face looked gaunt and empty of any emotion but discontent.

Swathed in a long, black cloak, several times too big for his emaciated frame, stood Seveus Snape.

And suddenly, Harry couldn't breathe.

* * *

Authors Note :- Righty! This is my first EVER Potter fan fiction and a prologue to boot, so be kind. Things will heat up and you will get more of an explanation in the next chapter, I promise.


	2. Chapter One

In Vipera Morsus

Author; Chihiro Yuki

Warnings for the whole story; Snape/Harry Slash, Foul Language, Upsetting Scenes and a terrible attempt at humour!

Setting; Post-War, Canon-ish (up until the epilogue) Seventh year.

Chapter One – The Familiar Taste Of Poison. 

Authors Note :- Thank you to the people who favourited, followed and reviewed! This story will be a test for me, to see if I have the motivation to write a 20 chapter + story. One day I want to write a book, if I can finish this story, I know I'll have the tools to write one. Nag me to death if I don't update soon enough; My PM is available! A metaphorical kick to the shins will do. Now, for the first proper chapter! Enjoy, fellow Snarry fans!

* * *

Harry Potter couldn't sleep.

He tossed and turned under crimson sheets. The night's air cooled the sweat on his body and sent an uncomfortable chill racing down his spine. He shifted on to his other side, tugging the blankets under his chin and shuffling around agitatedly to get comfortable again. But to no avail.

He huffed out a long-suffering sigh and dragged a hand back through his messy, black hair. Today had been.. well today had been exhausting, to say the least. It seemed his brain was working overtime and he couldn't stop replaying the events of the evening over and over in his mind.

Harry had felt no amount of joy or relief when he'd first laid eyes on none other than Severus Snape.

All his mind could contemplate was pure, barely restrained rage.

Why hadn't anyone told him that the man had survived? Why hadn't _Snape_ told him that he'd survived? Why had he been led to believe his hastily administered Essence of Dittany hadn't done its job? Why had he assumed that his honed skills in creating a patronus had failed him, the important message within never reaching its location? And last but not least, why did the whole situation bother Harry so deeply?

He had practically chocked on thin air when the former headmaster had walked slowly past Gryffindor table without even acknowledging his existence. After everything that had transpired between them both. After everything that Harry had seen. After the supposedly _futile_ attempt to save the man's life. Snape hadn't spared him one, measly glance.

The image of Snape, barely standing upright, walking to the head table bounced around his head for the hundredth time that night and he felt a stab of sadness in his chest. Once the rage had dissipated, Harry had been filled with a sickly feeling all evening. A feeling that consisted of contempt and sadness. How had a man, once so powerful and proud, become the haggard and withdrawn mess Harry had seen sitting down awkwardly at the end of the head table. He had grimaced in pain and ignored everyone around him, in favour of swirling an untouched goblet of red wine in his hands for the rest of the feast, staring at its contents unseeingly.

Harry turned and thumped his pillow into a more comfortable shape and proceeded to bury his face into it with a deep huff. He was restless but exhausted, never a good combination for a matured insomniac such as himself.

_'The bloody sun will be rising before I get any sleep at this rate..' _Harry thought blearily, his limbs twitching in agitation and the sheets seeming all too heavy and stifling to sleep under. Making a rash decision, he ripped the sheets back and sat up suddenly.

A walk. He'd go for a calming walk before retiring. He snatched his glasses from the bedside cabinet and shoved them on his face, then pulled the Mauraders Map out from under his pillow. He daren't run into a teacher at his hour, Saviour of the Wizarding World or not, he didn't fancy detention on his first week back.

Harry lent down and reached into his school bag by the bedside and pulled out his invisibility cloak for good measure, before climbing out of bed. He slipped his trainers on with his grey pyjamas, only bothering to pull a black hoody on against the chill of the castle. Cloak in hand and the map in his pocket, Harry tip-toed his way out of the dormitory he shared with Neville, Seamus, Dean and Ron and down the long, spiralling stairs to the Gryffindor common room.

Harry beheld the warm, welcoming common room for a fleeting moment before striding past the numerous comfy armchairs and the roaring hearth in the direction of the porthole.

When he'd swung open the portrait and promptly ignored the Fat Lady's attempt at protest, he found himself wandering down towards the grand staircase and didn't question it. His feet moved through the corridors knowingly; he needn't think about where he was going, he knew the castle off by heart.

By the time he'd reached the entrance hall, he brought himself to a stop to let his mind catch up to his body's motives. He'd had no use for the cloak so far, the castle had been void of life, living or dead. He balled it into his hoody pocket and looked around. The room was almost eerie in fashion. Abandoned and quiet in the dead of night. Candles glistened weakly in their brackets, but they only added a weary sense to the hour, instead of the usual grand splendour Hogwarts beheld.

Harry's feet began moving again before he'd even decided where he was going. It seemed his subconscious had its own ideas.

He found himself wandering blithely under the archway that led into the dungeons. He found he didn't care anymore and left his body in charge.

Soon enough, Harry found himself standing absentmindedly in the dark, chilly tunnels, just around the corner from Slytherin common room. His body had abandoned its attempt at reading his subconscious and he was left standing awkwardly in the middle of the corridor, the cold clawing at his face and up his back. A sudden thought struck him and he dug a hand into his hoody pocket and took out the Marauders Map.

Unfolding the magical map, Harry placed the tip of his wand to the centre and murmured quietly.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." A puff of warm air followed the incantation as Harry opened the map completely and scrutinised it. He spotted himself on the map, standing alone, except for one other presence located barely five meters away…

Harry chocked violently on thin air for the second time that evening, his widening eyes scanning the fine, script letters over and over.

_Severus Snape._

The map showed a tiny pair of feet pacing in tight, stilted circles in a room next to the corridor Harry currently stood in, rooted to the spot. His hands shook, the map shivering with them as he tore his eyes away from the pacing and turned bodily to the wall directly to his left.

A blank, grimy stone wall stood inconspicuously in front of him. Harry could feel his heart beating in his throat. He had to get in there. He just wanted to know. He wanted to know how Snape had survived. He wanted Snape to talk to him. He wanted Snape to look at him. He wanted Snape to just _acknowledge his existence. _

The pacing stopped and the feet came to halt over the other side of the room. Harry closed his eyes resolutely and shoved the map back in his pocket.

He swallowed against the dryness that had settled in the mouth and throat. His hands trembled as he slowly approached the wall and pressed the palms of his hands to the rough, icy stone.

Something happened.

Harry let out a startled cry as the wall's bricks began to separate at his touch, much like the entrance to Diagon Alley in the Leaky Cauldron. He stumbled backwards from the transforming wall, his eyes wide and shining with anticipation.

The last shifting brick slotted it's self in place and Harry beheld a small archway. A couple of steps in through the archway was an old, oaken door. Just as inconspicuous as every other door in the dungeons, but Harry wasn't fooled; it was what laid _behind _that heavy, wooden doorway that made his skin prickle with gooseflesh and his stomach tingle. Harry strode up to the door, his steps faltering as he did. He hesitated, eyeing the door with trepidation and licking his dry lips nervously.

_'I need to know…' _Harry's conscience rung true and he sucked in a brave breath. He had come this far, after all.

He knocked the door swiftly before he could stop himself and cringed at how the sound echoed dully around the dungeon corridors. Nerves suddenly hit Harry full force, the weight of the situation constricting his lungs and pressing down painfully on his heart. He began to back away from the intimidating doorway and from the even more intimidating situation he'd find himself in beyond.

_'I shouldn't of.. why did I…..' _Harry's thoughts were cut short as a quiet, gravelly voice sounded from beyond the aged wood.

"You may enter."

Turning back around, Harry gawped stupidly at the door. He couldn't believe his ears. He'd been admitted entrance. Just like that. No questions asked.

Harry scrambled for the last dregs of his bravery and marched right back up to the door. He steadied himself with another huge, calming breath, then grasped the handle with a shaking hand and pushed the door open swiftly. The door swung in a wide arc, light spilling from the room in a warm, yellow stip.

Blinking against the sudden light after the blackness of the Slytherin corridors, Harry took a tiny, hesitant step over the threshold, some of his bravery still intact. He froze in place at the sight of the back of Snape's head. The man was reclined on a settee at the far right of the room, the back of the piece of furniture facing the doorway.

"Minivera, I see no cause for these pointless journeys you've been making every night to my quarters. If you are so concerned, have Poppy fire-call. Don't waste your time. Such a pointless endeavour." Came the drawl, and Harry suddenly realized why he'd been allowed entrance so late at night, or even allowed entrance _at all_. He shuffled further into the room, over soft, green carpet and shut the door with a heavy click behind him. He was in it for the long-haul now. No turning back.

"I'll be sure to let her know that." He muttered into the room, the illusion broken.

Heavy, strained silence fell across the room in an instant. The atmosphere became tense and suddenly Harry wished he'd never uttered a single word.

Snape had whipped his head to the entrance of his quarters. He was uncharacteristically shocked, the expression marring his brows and leaving his mouth slightly agape. Seeming to catch himself before Harry, he schooled his features and rose slowly from his seat, his dark, penetrating gaze never leaving Harry's panicked, green eyes.

"Potter-" Harry burst before Snape could even form the second word of his sentence.

"I'm sorry! I don't- I- I don't know why I'm here- I.. I don't know.. I needed to know- I needed to know what happened- I'm- I don't know, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"POTTER!" Snape cut through his panicked rant with a gruff shout. He hacked slightly into his fist and Harry had the modesty to look guilty. He sealed his lips against the words that wanted to tumble out in his defence. Snape regained his composure and glared at his student. The glare had lost its former glory. He walked slowly around the settee and came to stand a metre away from Harry, a sort of pained resignation settling in the Professor's sharp eyes.

"I knew you'd come, Potter.. You never did have the ability to _mind your own business_." The way Snape said this lacked its usual, harsh bite and Harry once again felt a stab of sadness in his chest for the man standing before him.

"I'm sorry, I-" Snape held a long fingered hand up in protest, silencing Harry once again.

"Stop interrupting me. Be silent and you shall get your answers, Potter." Snape paused, his hateful eyes raking Harry's face, the glare ever present. Harry stared back, agitatedly bouncing on the balls of his feet. He nodded reluctantly, pink tongue peeking out to wet his dry lips again.

"As you can see Potter, I am _alive_ and _well_ and I won't take kindly to _sympathy_ off anyone. I live because of your _thoughtful _actions so I believe we are.. _even_. Do not come to me expecting any sort of life-debt; I have risked my own life for you more times than you could ever _begin_ to contemplate. Take your misplaced passion for saving everybody elsewhere. Your hero complex leaves a bad taste in my mouth." Snape finished, haughtily, looking down his nose at Harry.

The words stung. Of course they did. But they lacked their usual _bite, _their usual harsh delivery. It gave Harry the confidence to answer back, instead of retreating, or worse, instead of punching Snape in the face.

"Look, I don't know why I tried to save you, but I did. I'd already lost so much in my life.. I didn't want to sit there and watch you slip away without at least _trying_ to keep you alive. I know now about everything you've done for me and _I do_ appreciate it, every last bit of it. There isn't anything I could physically do to repay what you've done for me. I'm not asking for anything from you, Snape. I _never _wanted anything from you. I just want to know what happened."

Snape had kept his flint coloured eyes locked with Harry's green ones through the whole admission, unrelenting and steeled. They stayed like that for a while, locked in penetrating stares.

Snape was the first one to break the stare, the passion and stubbornness in Harry's eyes coming out tops. Snape heaved a weak sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Very well. Come." Harry watched Snape turn away unsteadily and make his way over to a glass fronted cabinet. He followed reluctantly, trying to gage Snape's sudden change in demeanour and lack of stubbornness. From scathing and angry to reluctant but resolute in thirty seconds. A near death experience had apparently affected the man more than physically.

Harry watched Snape grasp two tumblers from the cabinet and shakily pour healthy measures of Firewhisky into each. The glass clinked heavily against the tumblers as Snape tried to control his shaking hands, his weakness from his survival never more apparent than now. Harry felt his heart clench, despite the hurtful things Snape had just accused him of. On a whim, he reached forwards and steadied Snape's hand by placing his own over the top and grasping tightly.

He felt Snape stiffen at his touch. A huge tremor shook the hand and it reverberated up his own arm. He looked up into Snape's face, only to see the man looking steadily at him, his eyes slightly wider than usual.

Something about the stare unnerved Harry and he let go as if he'd been burnt. Snape tore his gaze away and the shaking seemed to increase tenfold as he gingerly placed the bottle back into the cabinet, the glass clinking against the wood loudly. He shut the cabinet and walked away without picking up the drinks he had just poured. He stiffly walked over to the settee and sat down, facing away from Harry.

_'Well, that was awkward_..'

Harry glanced at his Professor then back at the tumblers of Firewhisky and decided to use his initiative. He grasped both glasses and strode over to the prone man, setting them down on the coffee table in front of him. Harry quickly took an armchair opposite and clasped his hands in his lap, his foot tapping on the plush carpet agitatedly. He glanced at the glazed look that had taken residence in Snape's face and wondered if he'd caused it by being so callous.

"Professor…" Snape's eyes snapped to his face, a glare instantly apparent. Harry was slightly taken back but ploughed on; he wouldn't miss an opportunity like this, Snape was being terribly compliant for _Snape. _For all he knew, the man would be back to his usual, petulant, scathing self soon.

"How come… How come I could get through.. you know.. the wall outside? Why did it let me in?" Harry saw Snape's knuckles whiten where they were gripped at his knees. The glare intensified.

"That's is for _me_ to know, Potter, and for _you_ to keep your nose out of. Stop asking such menial questions and get to the point, I don't have all night!" Came the snapped retort. Harry shifted awkwardly in the arm chair and nodded jerkily, concealing his frustration at his Professor. Snape reached a still-shacking hand for the tumbler in front of him and gestured impatiently for Harry to do the same. Harry gratefully picked up his tumbler, tipping it to his lips and let the drink burn down his throat, the amber liquid soothing and warming as it hit his stomach.

"Right. I'll just cut to the point then, should I?" Harry murmured, wiping the excess whisky off his lips with the back of his hand. Snape glowered at the act, turning his nose up at what he obviously considered extremely piggish.

"Do." Snape answered curtly with another impatient motion of his hand. Harry cast the man a half-hearted glare.

"How did you survive? I didn't think what I'd done would work.. with the venom and all.. and the amount of… blood.. I don't know how-"

"Your timing was impeccable, for once in your life. When you administered the Essence of Dittany and I fell unconscious from blood loss, the potion managed seal most of the wound and keep me _barely_ alive until Poppy received your message. I assume she saved me on a whim, or so she could cast me to the dementors once she'd made the effort to bring me back from the brink. Either way she seemed to trust you."

Harry stared, considering, re-enacting the scene in his head the best he could. He wanted to push for more details, but considered himself lucky for getting this much out of Snape in the first place. So he took another sip of whisky instead, nodding his head slowly.

"I was in an induced coma until a month ago. In that state my body was pumped of the venom over a long period. Instant withdrawal would of caused my body to go into shock and your _heroic _efforts would have been put to waste, Potter."

"Is it… is the venom gone now?" Harry muttered, his eyes never leaving the black-stare that kept him captivated.

"I am to take Essence of Dittany to heal the wound and specially brewed anti-venom for the next couple of months. Dittany helps re-seal my wound and the anti-venom will purge my body of the substance that keeps re-opening it. They will work together so that I shall have no trace of the venom by Christmas and my neck will be perfectly healed." Snape finished dispassionately, seeming to spit the words at Harry.

Harry ran the rim of the tumbler against his bottom lip, considering his Professor and asked something he knew he'd instantly regret.

"If you need any help at all in the meantime, I'm more than willing-"

"I DO NOT require any assistance!" Snape snapped viciously, suddenly hostile. "Especially from the likes of _you._" He added rather childishly, making Harry start.

"But.." Harry protested, placing his tumbler down on the coffee table and raising a curious eyebrow at his professor.

"NO buts! I think that it is about time you took your leave, Potter."

Harry snapped. He knew later he would regret his lack of control.

"You are one ungrateful bastard, Snape!" Harry growled, rising quickly from the arm chair and standing over Snape, fists clenched.

"GET OUT! I will not tolerate attention-seeking, intolerable, nosey, BRATS in my quarters, OUT!" Snape shouted, also rising and towering menacingly over Harry.

Things got out of control far too quickly for Harry's liking. But his anger said otherwise.

"FUCK YOU!" Harry screamed into Snape's face, his fury bubbling viciously in his chest. He whipped side-ways when Snape appeared to lurch for him, dodging the man all together. Harry felt sickening triumph spread through him as he danced into the middle of the room, away from his Professor as the man stumbled weakly with the gravity of his swing.

Everything appeared to happen is slow motion, then.

Snape didn't regain his footing in time before his shins caught on the low coffee table. The man fell with all of his staggered weight onto the table. The weight of his fall collapsed the table and as it did, Snape's head struck the stone adorning the nearby hearth rather loudly. Then there was silence. A deafening silence. It rang in his ears as his Professor lay still in the ruins of the table.

Harry felt a blinding panic overtake his every nerve. He ran and fell to his knees where Snape lay, barely conscious from the nasty strike to the head. He cupped the man's face and felt a rush of sympathy and concern course through his veins. The usual Snape would of bounced straight back from such a fall, wand poised and ready to curse Harry into next year. Or he'd have never fallen in the first place. The reality of Snape's injuries struck Harry like a rampaging hippogriff.

"Severus? Can you hear me? P-Professor..?" Harry stuttered, rubbing his thumbs over high cheek bones in a soothing motion. An idea took Harry and he quickly cast a patronus charm, relaying it with a message and sending it straight to Madam Pomfrey. The stag cantered straight through the wall, leaving glittering silver residue in its wake.

"I-I'm sorry.. I didn't mean…" Harry brushed the man's hair away from his face, his heart getting heavier with guilt by the minute. Deciding he should try and move the man, he moved closer and hooked one arm under Snape's upper-back and another under his thighs, supporting him bridal style and lifting him. Snape mumbled something incoherently and Harry's arms shook with the weight of lifting the man to the settee behind them.

By the time Harry had positioned Snape on the settee and had grasped his hand tightly, guilt flowing through him and tears welling reluctantly under his eyelids, Pomfrey had burst into the room, clad in a nightgown and slippers.

"Potter.. how!?-"

"He just fell, I don't know!" Harry exclaimed as Pomfrey bustled over and knelt beside Snape to examine him. She began to run her wand over various parts of his body, muttering something that sounded distinctly Latin. She paused and gave Harry a weary look.

"You may leave now, Mr. Potter. I don't know how you _always_ get caught up in these situations, but I can deal with Professor Snape. Off to bed with you!" Pomfrey exclaimed, giving Harry a pointed look. Harry went to protest but stopped himself when the woman raised a sceptical brow at him and began once again to mumble in Latin, turning away from him completely.

Harry sighed and reluctantly let his Professor's hand slip from his grasp. He rose slowly and began to make his way to the door, feeling awkward and chastised. He stopped and turned back a few steps away from the door when Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat. She looked up at him and wearily shook her head.

"You were never here. Now keep yourself from any more trouble!" She exclaimed, a soft look crossing her features. Harry inclined his head morosely and pulled the heavy door open in front of him.

He allowed himself one last glance back at the settee before he crossed the threshold. Snape had begun to regain consciousness and question his whereabouts while Pomfrey was soothing him with murmured things Harry couldn't hear at this distance. He shook his head at his own stupidity.

He let the door swing back on its self as he left Snape's room.

And as it did, he mentally vowed to help Snape throughout the next two months.

He owed the man more than his life.

And Harry wouldn't be taking _no_ for an answer.

* * *

Authors Note :- Weeeeeeelp, there ya go! I stayed up FORCING myself to write this until 5:23am :P So I'm sorry if the writing got a tad delusional.. at this hour in the morning, it's bound to happen. I hope you enjoy this.. I'm sorry if there are accuracy issues… I haven't read Harry Potter in a few years! You are allowed to curse my idiocy if everything is completely inaccurate! Be kind to me if you review though.. I've never written anything like this.. and Snarry is so, so difficult! So many good fictions out there concerning this couple, goddamn it, it's hard to compete! O.o Thanks for reading! Next chapter shouldn't be too long! Watch this space!

_Also, if you find that you see similarities in this to fictions you've already read, such as the use of Dittany.. I'm not trying to copy.. I swear o.O It's unintentional and I'm not claiming it was solely my idea. Ideas travel down the grape-line and in the end, a few people end up using them. I don't want to offend anyone! ~_


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